


You gotta know, I'm feeling love (made of gold)

by cutesudon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: D&D AU, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Suggestive Themes, alternative universes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutesudon/pseuds/cutesudon
Summary: A collection of ficlets originally posted on my Tumblr.





	1. Everyone loves Yuuri, Just Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these haven't been edited, so apologies in advance!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soft boys being soft

Like… Was that even a question?

Who  _doesn’t_ , in their right mind, love Yuuri Katsuki?

The whole Russian team loves him. Even Lilia, who doesn’t show her affection so often, was caught smiling at Yuuri one day at practice to everyone’s surprise. Even Yuri, who liked to act like he hated everyone, went straight to Yuuri when he’d gotten that video game he was waiting for so long, excited to let him know about it.

And it wasn’t only the Russian team. All competitors had great respect for him, and more often than not Victor would see them complimenting Yuuri after his performances and asking for advice. Journalists were especially eager to interview him because Yuuri was always so  _adorable_  it was guaranteed people would watch his interviews. Everywhere Yuuri went he’d bring out the best in people.

Truth is:  _everyone_  loves him. There’s nothing to dislike about that lovely boy. 

Except that Yuuri doesn’t seem to think it that way. 

And that was fine, Victor reasoned. Yuuri has his own reasons to think he was not  _that_  great (even though he was  _fucking wrong_ ), reasons that got out of his hand to deal with, that made it not so simple for Victor to show Yuuri that he was the greatest gift to humankind since the invention of cream cheese. But that didn’t stop him from making Yuuri notice how much he was loved. 

“Yakov isn’t one to spare compliments,” he commented one day as they were heading back home. “In fact, I don’t think he compliments me nearly as much as he compliments you. You’re so talented, Yuuri.”

To what Yuuri would blush furiously, attempting to hide his face under his thick scarf and change subject to what they needed to buy for dinner. 

“Hey, Yuuri,” Victor heard Mila call him from the sidelines when she arrived for the evening training session. “Thanks for helping me out with homework yesterday. That formula you taught me made  _so_ much more sense than the one I was previously trying. You’re a genius!”

And Victor could practically hear Yuuri’s hands waving dismissingly as he stammered that there was no need to thank him.

“Yo, Katsudon,” the other day Yuri popped into the dressing room as they were about to leave for lunch. “That game you recommended me was really sick. I beat it overnight. So cool!”

“You  _what_?” Yakov yelled from the corridor.

And Yuri joined them for lunch while blabbering excitedly about said game, smiling and laughing at the impressions Yuuri exchanged with him in a way Victor had never seen before.

So why was it that Yuuri couldn’t  _see_  the positive effect he had on people?

They laid in silence one night, Victor in Yuuri’s arms, each of them recollected to their thoughts when Victor broke the silence.

“You’re an angel, you know?” He blurted out, causing Yuuri to stir under him. 

“Vitya…” Yuuri had a smile in his voice, smoothing Victor’s bed hair as if to say  _yeah yeah_.

Victor brought Yuuri’s band to his lips and kissed its back, “I’m serious,” he murmured, brushing his lips and inhaling his scent with eyes closed. “You’re the best thing to ever happen.”

Yuuri breathed a short laugh, kissing the top of Victor’s head and humming noncommittally. 

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it,” he rolled on his stomach to look at his fiancé, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re a ray of sunshine in a long, cold winter.”

 “Oh, my god,” he chuckled, cupping Victor’s face between his hands. “OK, Shakespeare, what do you want?”

“I want you to love yourself like I love you,” Victor kissed his palm, voice playful and daring. “Or… Maybe just a tenth of how much I love you. And I love you  _very_  much, you know…”

“You do?” Yuuri smiled, shimming closer to Victor, who made a soft sound of agreement. “How much?”

Victor paused for a moment to think, fluttering his eyes shut as he gently kissed Yuuri’s hand. 

“More than… More than Yakov loves screaming.”

“That’s… A lot, indeed,” Yuuri breathed, brushing the pad of his thumb on Victor’s cheekbone. 

“More than JJ loves himself.”

“Wow, Vitya,” he laughed, kissing his lips gently. “I’m not sure I can imagine how  _much_  love that is. Care to give me an example?”

Everyone loves Yuuri. But no one loves Yuuri as much as Victor.


	2. So many miles before I sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long Distance Relationship AU I guess??

**Yuuri sent:**  
_I’m on my way!  
Can’t wait to see you <3_

 **You sent:**  
_Safe travels, babe <3_

Four hours.

Sometimes four hours would go by really fast. It’s almost an insignificant amount of time when you’re reading, watching a movie or, in Victor’s case, binge-watching let’s plays on YouTube.

But other times four hours seemed to dragpainstakingly _slow_. 

This was always the case when they were in their ways to see each other. Four hours felt like an eternity, one in which they would suffer in anticipation, barely focusing on anything else that didn’t involve Yuuri and being in his arms. 

Every other Friday, Victor would come visit him for the weekend. Every other Friday, Yuuri would travel to his city and spend the weekend at his place. This was how their relationship had gone for almost a year now.

And while it was nice to travel and spend the weekend together - doing things the other regularly did, going to different places  _together_ \- it was always painful when they had to leave, travel back to their homes and carry on their lives apart for the rest of the week. 

But on the bright side, they knew they’d meet again the other weekend. It made their long weeks more bearable, and they’d usually skype at least once a week. 

So on that weekend, Yuuri was coming to see him, taking the first train to St. Petersburg as soon as he was done with his classes. Victor could barely think of anything else since Thursday night - it was all  _Yuuri_ , about how wonderful it would be to pick him up at the station, kiss those lips he’d missed so much, smell his familiar scent that had worn out from his bedding. Wednesday night he was already planning what they’d do on the weekend, which places he’d take Yuuri to and what movies they would watch on their lazy Saturday night. 

But, to be fair, Victor was always thinking about him. It just happened that when the weekend was getting closer his thoughts got harder and harder to pull away from his love and life.

Four hours. If Victor could, he’d rush to meet Yuuri halfway so they wouldn’t have to wait. 

 **Yuuri sent:**  
_I miss you so much.  
And Makkachin, of course! Will he come too?_

 **You sent:**  
_Of course! He misses you almost as much as I do (*´♡_ _｀*)_  
**You sent an attachment**  
_Makkachin told me I should get some wine for us tonight~_

 **Yuuri sent:**  
_Vitya!!!! omg that’s so cute  
Can this train go any faster? I have a poodle to pet and a boyfriend to kiss????_

 **You sent:**  
_Yuuri!!!! ( _＾_ _♡__ ＾)~  
 _I’ll just set things up around home and head to the station!_

**Yuuri sent:**   
_lmao omg Vitya my sunshine it’s too early to leave  
And it’s snowing. Cuddle Makkachin and maybe… keep the bed warm for us? ;)_

**You sent:**  
_But baaaaaaaaaabyyyyyyyyy (◕︿◕✿)  
Alright… I guess I have no other alternative._

 **Yuuri sent:**  
_< 3 _  
 _Kinda sucks that it takes so long._  
 _I’ll try my best not to sleep on the train so we can cuddle to sleep once I’m there <3_

 **You sent:**  
_Have I mentioned I got a new duvet? It’s so fluffy!!  
If you nap on the train you’ll be missing out on the most comfortable bed to ever exist in St. Petersburg ;)_

 **Yuuri sent:**  
_Every bed is the most comfortable bed if you’re there to sleep with me, Vitya.  
… baby are you there?_

 **You sent:**  
_You can’t just send me those things and expect me to be alright, babe. I dropped my phone to cry a little because that was so cute ๐·°(৹˃̵﹏˂̵৹)°·๐_

 **Yuuri sent:**  
_OMG BABY PLEASE DON’T CRY FSKDJFSFLKGJ  
Fuck, I just miss you SO MUCH_

 **You sent:**  
_Get here already!!! (っ◞‸◟c)_

And when Yuuri arrived at the station he was always welcomed by Victor’s loving embrace and Makkachin’s happy barks, followed by his boyfriend’s excited stream of questions about his day and blabbered comments on his suggestions for their time together. The best part, however, was getting to Victor’s apartment, shedding his clothes, taking a hot shower and slipping into bed to sleep in his arms.

It was better than coming home. Or rather, this  _was_  coming home.


	3. Yuuri is supposedly average, Victor is confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> average??? _my_ yuuri??

Victor couldn’t  _get it_. 

He couldn’t get how Yuuri always looked so  _good_ , effortlessly handsome even within minutes of waking up. It wasn’t fair, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. Each morning he got to get up next to his fiancé was a blessing, and Victor doubted he’d ever get tired of gazing at him lovingly while Yuuri was still asleep. 

And what was even more puzzling was that whenever Victor waxed poetic about Yuuri’s good-looks - well, to be fair, not only his good looks as much as his  _whole_  being, because Yuuri Katsuki was nothing but perfection to his eyes - his fiancé just seemed to… feel embarrassed?

“I’m not all that, Vitya, come on,” Yuuri would giggle, pushing him with a pillow while blushing so prettily. 

He couldn’t get it. How did Yuuri not fall in love with himself every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror? How could he _pout_ of all things when he got up to find out his hair was sticking up everywhere? He was  _gorgeous_. Breathtaking. Victor didn’t know enough words in English, Russian or French to even get started on how handsome Yuuri was. 

Even on magazines - damn, Victor knew those pictures received some photoshop treatment, but Yuuri was already  _perfect_ the way he was and if anything those corrections only served to highlight his best features. The crease of his abs, the muscles of his thighs, the vee of his pelvis. Fuck. Victor started sweating just from thinking about those.

Yuuri didn’t argue with him, and deep down Victor knew that even though he kept laughing and denying Victor’s unending praises he was deeply affected by them. Victor could see it whenever they got physical - Yuuri would ask him what he thought, would ask for his  _praise_ , it made him shiver and writhe and Victor could swear he’d live to compliment Yuuri if that meant making him feel good. It was heaven. Paradise in its finest form. 

It was just puzzling when he read in one of the most recent interviews Yuuri had given he thought of himself as nothing except… Average?

“Yuuri, babe… Do you even know what ‘average’ means?” He couldn’t refrain from asking, dropping the magazine on his lap with a certain exasperation. It was a silly question, but sometimes Victor doubted Yuuri understood what the word actually meant because it simply didn’t apply to him.

Yuuri paused, pushing his glasses up his nose and wiping his hair out of his face before resuming his baking. “What do you mean?”

“Here… It says you think of yourself…  _Average_ ,” Victor repeated, raising the magazine to point at Yuuri exactly where the word was. 

He furrowed his brow, eyes jumping from Victor to the magazine as he tried to make sense of what on Earth his fiancé was going on about. Oh, the interview. He could barely remember what he’d said to the journalist - it was embarrassing enough to pose in leotards that left little to nothing to the imagination, let alone talk about what eros represented for him to a complete stranger. 

“Oh… Yeah, I mean, my appearance  _is_  pretty average for a Japanese–”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence before Victor groaned a loud  _NO_  from the couch. 

“Yuuuuuu~riiiiiii!” Victor whined, rolling off the couch dramatically and disturbing Makkachin’s sleep. “How many times?” He asked, beelining for the kitchen. 

“What?”

“How many times must I tell you how  _not average_  you are? At anything?”

Victor looked sincerely hurt, pouting and frowning at him with the magazine rolled up in his hand, arms across the chest in a stubborn pose. Yuuri smiled, smearing some baking mixture on the tip of his nose. 

“Ah… You know… Sometimes I need a more hands-on approach to understand things?” Yuuri teased, delighted to watch Victor’s cheeks bloom in a lovely shade of pink as he cleaned the tip of his nose on the back of his hand.

“Y-Yuuri, I’m serious,” he murmured, trying to play tough even though the hands that circled his waist told Yuuri the complete opposite. “You’re  _amazing_ ,” he placed a kiss on Yuuri’s neck, right below his ear, earning a timid shiver from him. “ _Handsome_ ,” another kiss, on the hollow of his collarbone. “ _Talented_ …”

“Vitya, I’m trying to bake…” Yuuri complained weakly, melting in his arms. 

“Mhm. See? So talented, my perfect fiancé.”

“You’re impossible,” Yuuri giggled, turning his head to capture his lips with a sweet kiss. “How about you show me what you like so much about me when I’m done here?”

He heard Victor’s soft gasp, then felt the weight of his body gently dropping on top of his frame as Victor whispered his name like a prayer, resting his cheek on Yuuri’s shoulder.

And to think Yuuri would have blushed furiously even at the thought of such words not even a year ago.

“Will you be a good boy for me?” Yuuri teased again, earning an eager sound of agreement from his fiancé. 

“The best boy,” he promised with a kiss on his shoulder.

Yuuri smiled, feeling the warm, fuzzy emotions stirring deep in his chest as Victor quietly whispered about how much he loved him, about everything Yuuri did that added beauty to his life, every little thing he unconsciously did that made Victor feel blessed each day of his life he spent next to him, and he thought of how undeniably  _average_ he was when comparing himself to Victor and everything he meant to him. It was a pointless argument, of course, one which none of them would ever win, yet the delicious argument to have. 


	4. 5 times people tried flirting with Victor in front of Yuuri, and Victor was very salty about it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri knows _exactly_ how Victor's fans are but Victor is horrified they are still bold enough to flirt with him even when he's engaged to the cutest man in this universe.

_Everyone_  knows Victor Nikiforov is a desirable man. It wasn’t for nothing that he held the title of hottest bachelor in the sportive universe for years unending. Yuuri has exemplars of every magazine that points it out ( _the photos are amazing in these ones_ , he’d explain himself), and he still has a hard time believing he is the one behind the reason why Victor is not eligible for that title anymore. Victor is, and will always be, a beacon of beauty in the sports universe, but definitely not single anymore.

Sometimes he can’t quite believe he’s wearing matching rings with his  _fiancé_  Victor Nikiforov. And Yuuri  _knows_  there’s no one in this world Victor loves more than him. Countless times he’s been told by the man himself there’s no one he’d rather love. For Victor, there’s  _only_ Yuuri and no one else.

It’s insane. Victor’s love breathes air into his lungs, soothing and comforting like only love can be.

Coming from where Yuuri did - as Victor’s fan, that is - he knows  _really well_  what other people think of him. He may or may not be responsible for some of the sauciest “ _imagine Victor Nikiforov”_ posts going around the internet. Naturally, Yuuri gets jealous like every normal person, but he handles it pretty well, only requiring some special attention and reassurance once he and Victor are alone in their privacy.

Victor, though. Oh, Victor.  _H_ _e does not forgive_.

There was this one time he and Yuuri had gone shopping for Yuri’s birthday, and it was one of those rare moments where they had let go of their hands and Yuuri was browsing the other aisle, still close but not close  _enough_. It was one of the employees asked Victor for a picture - nothing unusual. A regular selfie, Victor making his trademark peace sign pose and smiling gently at the camera.

What was unusual was that the employee gave him his phone number. At first, it didn’t make sense for Victor - a phone number? With this guy’s name on it? Why would he want it? - but it clicked when the guy gave him a warm smile and a wink. 

It was a knee-jerk reaction, "What am I supposed to do with this?” He asked, deeply upset. He didn’t even wait for an answer before crumpling the paper in his hand, trailing back to where Yuuri was resolute on not letting go of his hand ever again in that store, occasionally flashing angry eyes at the employee.

When Victor told him, huffing and grunting about the employee’s insolence, Yuuri thought it was hilarious.

So it wasn’t unusual for Victor to get hit on, even though most people  _knew_  he was spoken for. If he happened to go to the pet store to buy Makkachin food or new toys, one of the cashiers  _always_  hit on him, no matter how hard Victor tried to ignore her and only talk to her when necessary. Some other people were even blunter, flirting with him in front of Yuuri - who always laughed later, because Victor’s appalled reaction was so great.

The worst time was when they went to Sicily on vacations. Yuuri was having the time of his life at the pool, gorgeous and all smiles for Victor and it was impossible to look away. He thought of ordering a drink for both of them - something refreshing, sweet and a bit alcoholic - to celebrate their love and life together. He got out of the pool, dripping, and asked the barman for two drinks. 

As he waited at the counter, an older man standing nearby offered a sly smile at him, definitely staring at Victor while he waited for his order. That alone wasn’t much to get Victor bothered - he would get those looks from time to time, and he didn’t mind - but the man hummed  _something_  under his breath as he turned around that managed to get Victor red. 

He was  _livid_ , because even though he didn’t speak Italian he understood it well enough to pick up on the meaning behind that crude flirtation. For a split second, Victor almost replied him with something equally rude - he even pictured himself dramatically throwing a drink at the man - but he wouldn’t. No, Victor Nikiforov was better than that. Taking in deep breaths, Victor managed to get his anger under control until the barman had their drinks ready. 

As he left, Victor stretched his arm out and displayed his golden ring on purpose. He would have told him to fuck off, but lacking the knowledge to say so in Italian wouldn’t sound so nice, and the look of embarrassment on the man’s face was enough for him to feel avenged. 

When Victor told Yuuri about that Yuuri laughed, as he usually did, but he had to admit he felt the same anger Victor must have felt back then. It was this quiet possessiveness, a pride in knowing that Victor loved him so much he got  _salty_ at people who tried to flirt with him. Victor was  _his_  and no one else’s, and that made Yuuri’s insides flutter with happiness. 


	5. Blood Maelstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An RPG AU where Yakov is the DM, Victor and Yuuri share their dice (because of course) and Victor won't take it seriously.

“You arrive at Graystryke’s city gates,” Yakov says, glancing at the players over his laptop. “The city is a fortress, with tall stone walls guarding the city against the valley, and no guards seem to be around. You can hear nothing but the sound of the cascade to your left…”

“I climb the wall,” Yurio says, leaning back in his chair and grabbing his D20. He rolls it despite Yakov’s sigh, not waiting for an answer as he does a quick math. “Fuck. I  _don’t_ , apparently. Got a six.”

“You run face first into the wall,” Yakov grunts.

“That’s bullshit,” Yuri kicks the table, making all players fumble on the surface to keep their dices in place. “Shadowcraft is not that dumb. What kind of wall is that?”

“A magical wall that does not like asshole rogues like Shadowcraft. Find another way in.”

“Can I roll for perception?” Yuuri asks, earning a quick nod from Yakov that makes him reach for his die immediately. He hums something under his breath. “I, uh… 23? With modifiers.”

“OK. You notice there are people watching you, hiding in the cliffs. It’s not very high, though, and you can see five of them.”

“Are they friendly?” Yuuri bites the tip of his pen, Yakov simply shrugs. “Fuck. Right, um. I'm going to tell our party that.”

“I’ll fuck them up,” Yuri announces in his character voice, raspy and low and Milia covers her mouth in an attempt to not laugh at it. “Alright, Yakov, don’t let me down this time. I’m going for it. I’m climbing the fucking cliff and piercing a dagger through their fucking skulls.”

“What if they’re friendly, though? We don't know...” Victor says, brushing the tip of his fingers on the back of Yuuri's hand.

“Why would they be hiding if they’re _friendly_ , you idiot?”

Victor shrugs, “They could be scared. Maybe there was an attack on the city. We just got here, we don't know.”

“Do you think the whole city is just  _five_ people?”

“They could be survivors,“ Victor hums, wrapping his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, growing less and less interested in the story and more interested in kissing Yuuri's forehead.

“They hear you discussing and come down from their hiding spot,” Yakov says, monotone, his dice rolling behind the makeshift screen between players and DM. After some thinking, and the character’s general fuss over a possible attack as the DM starts taking notes on their stats, Yakov speaks again. “Everyone, roll for initiative. They are bandits, and two of them come right to you, Victor. Two archers stay behind, while a taller, stronger warrior falls behind, his eyes trained on Yuuri- I mean, Atsushi. What do you do?”

“I stand in front of… Peregrinus Toughbutt,” Yuuri tries his best to say Victor’s character’s name without laughing. “I draw my sword and give them a meaningful look, saying nothing.”

“I hide,” Yuri says, showing his die. “I got a natural 20. They don’t even know I exist. I’m going to hide behind a rock with Mila and sharpen my daggers.”

With a smile curling Victor’s lip, he says, “I cast Lube on their feet.”

The table looses it. Except for Yakov, who rests his head on his hands. 

“Honestly, Yakov, what were you expecting? It’s my only spell so far.”

“It’s called  _Oil_ , you know, and that's not how you're supposed to use it,” Georgi chuckles. “And you know a basic healing spell too. Didn't you have Fireball?”

“Nope, I thought about getting it but chose to improve Lube instead.” 

“OK, I have Fireball, we can combine spells.”

“Why do you need _Lube_ anyway?” Yuri rolls his eyes, resting his feet on the table. “It’s such a dumb spell.”

“I need it for Yuuri’s sword,” Victor winks, making Yuri shudder dramatically in response. And if there was any chance of getting through the battle seriously that opportunity is completely wasted. It’s all sexual innuendos from there on. 

The fight takes a good hour to finish, with all characters taking turns to attack, Victor’s Lube on fire on the floor, Mila and Yuri popping in and out of the fight and Yuuri killing pretty much all bandits single-handedly. 

“Vitya, love…” Yuuri hums after the fight. “Can you change your spells, maybe?”

The look Victor gives him is of utter betrayal, his jaw dramatically dropping in mock-offense. “Yuuri?”

“I mean… I appreciate your thought and all, but maybe focus on healing spells while Georgi focuses on destruction magic?” He asks with a sheepish wink. “To balance the party, I mean. Please?”

“Yes, Vitya,  _please_  I’m begging you,” Yakov murmurs, rubbing his temples. “Anything but lube jokes.”

With a sigh of defeat, Victor agrees with the proposal, receiving a new character sheet from Yakov all too quickly along with a spell book.

“Just make sure to grab at least attack spell, because we already have too many wizards in this party,” Georgi murmurs as he goes through the spells book with Victor, helping him find all the healing spells they would need. 

And Victor wouldn’t be Victor if he wasn’t a dork. 

“Can I pick Arcane Punch?” He asks Yakov, who nods dismissively as he listens to Mila’s action. “Great. I’m calling it Toughbutt’s Magic Fisting.”

Yuuri bursts out in laughter and Yakov gives up on the campaign for the day. 


	6. A bonding moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess what: Yuri really loves Makkachin.

“… so I guess we  _could_  make it in time,” Yuuri was saying as Victor struggled to unlock the door as he wrestled a bunch of groceries bags out of the way. “Unless we end up spending more time getting ready than we anticipate.”

“That always happens, babe,” Victor chuckled, pushing the door and stepping into the apartment with Yuuri at his heels. “We can always shower together to save time, but that only works in theory.”

Yuuri just laughed, his cheeks flaring up in a beautiful shade of pink as they kicked their shoes off on the doorway. Victor was right after all, so there was no reason to dismiss that innuendo. He’d grown comfortable with it, in fact, embracing his  _eros_  out of the ice as well as on it. 

Victor offered him a cheeky wink as he walked into the kitchen, placing the groceries on the counter and unpacking them, neatly organizing the items in rows like it was his habit, humming some pop tune as he worked. Yuuri joined him, unpacking and humming the same song, stealing a quick kiss in between his trips to place their food in the appropriate places.

But something was odd.

“Um… Where is Makkachin?” Yuuri asked, tucking his chin on Victor’s shoulder and lacing his arm around his waist as Victor unpacked the last bag. 

“Mm?”

Yuuri laughed softly, kissing Victor’s neck. “Our son? Makkachin? The brown poodle?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Victor hummed, leaning into his touch, melting into Yuuri’s embrace. “He didn’t show up, did he?”

“This is the first time we unpack our groceries in peace without him asking for a treat,” Yuuri said, lips brushing on Victor’s neck. “You think Yuri took him for a walk?”

“Maybe? I mean, maybe not, his sneakers were by the door so that means he’s still inside.”

Victor paused for a moment, eyes lost somewhere in the kitchen as he tried to  _listen_  for their noises.

“It’s too quiet. You know that kids are up to no good when they’re this quiet,” Victor shook his head half-heartedly before placing a soft kiss on Yuuri’s lips. “We should look for them.”

The apartment wasn’t exactly small, but not so big that one could lose themselves in it, so it didn’t take a long time for Yuuri to spot a muffled conversation coming from the guest room which had its door closed. They must be in there, he thought, gesturing at Victor to come check. 

They didn’t mean to eavesdrop, of course. But it kind of happened. As Victor was about to knock on the door to let Yuri know they were back, he caught on something interesting.

“ _Like…_ ” Yuri’s voice was muffled, but easy enough to understand from the other side of the door, a soft Russian that was clear enough for even Yuuri to understand, “ _it’s crazy, you know? Uh, I mean, of course you don’t. You’re a dog. You just exist and that’s it. You don’t suffer any existential angst like I do. Consciousness is all fun and games until you start thinking… What’s the point of all this? But no, you just… chill. Forever. I’m kinda jealous of you, you know? I feel so small. Like… I try my damn hardest all the time and what’s the point? It’s all fake. And that’s fucked up. Nothing makes sense, but you’re a dog and you’re just OK with that, you don’t need to worry about these things. What is your secret? Like, what do you know? What goes on inside this poodle head?_ ” 

“Vitya?” Yuuri whispered, eyes wide and bros knit together in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“He’s having a deep talk with Makkachin about the universe and the meaning of life, I guess?” Victor pressed his lips tight, suppressing a smile.

“Oh, dear.”

“Should we interrupt?” Victor asked.

Yuuri shrugged lightly. “I mean… I feel bad for eavesdropping,” he said, looking at their feet. “And I think it’s best we knock on the door and let him know we’re home instead of letting him open the door and find out we’re just standing here?”

Victor gave a sharp nod in agreement and knocked on the door. “Yura! We’re home!”

There was silence in the room, and they shared a brief moment where Yuuri and Victor just stared at each other expectantly as they waited for a response from the teenager on the other side. 

“Nice,” he replied in English. “You can, uh, open the door, if you want.”

Victor pushed it open to find Yuri on his stomach, laying on the floor in front of Makkachin, just glaring at them like he wasn’t just discussing philosophy with their dog. Makkachin, on the other hand, perked his ears up and wagged his tail at them, but made no move to come welcome them like he usually did. 

“What did you guys bring for dinner? I’m starved.”

“Oh, you know,” Victor shrugged, looking at Yuuri. “Frozen pizza. We can throw in some other ingredients and make it better like you showed us.” 

Yuri’s eyes lit up and a smirk curved his lips. “OK, cool.”

“And… Did Makkachin give you any trouble?” Victor squatted next to them to pet the dog, that offered him a sympathetic lick. 

“He was OK,” Yuri shrugged, watching Makkachin stand up and bond towards Yuuri excitedly. “Now, for real, can we get started on the pizza?”

“Ah, yes,” Yuuri said as he scratched behind Makkachin’s ear. “Care to help me with it? We just need to wash our hands first.”

Yuri just gave him a thumbs up as he sat up, watching the two disappear in the corridor as Victor unwrapped his scarf by the door, giving him a knowing look. 

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Victor smiled, folding the scarf on his arm. “I got a bit nostalgic, that’s all.” 

Yuri squinted, intrigued. “How so?”

Victor shrugged lightly, not looking him in the eyes. “I know Makkachin is a good listener.”

Raising his eyebrows, Yuri nodded in silence, his eyes scanning the room as Victor watched him. 

“OK, what are you doing here still?” Yuri frowned, pushing Victor out of the room. “Your fiancé needs our help. Stop moping.” 

“Oh, so you’re helping us? Yuri!” Victor smiled at him, letting his weight fall against Yuri’s angry push.

“Stop, Victor! Katsudon told us to wash our hands, not fool around!”


	7. Here, and where you are (I exist in two places)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long Distance Relationship AU? [DJ Khaled's voice] ANOTHER ONE

Yuuri Katsuki never thought he’d find the love of his life like that: working at the cheapest café on campus, sweaty, serving mochaccino and accidentally pouring his order all over his client, destroying his book and staining his clothes.

And yet that’s how it went. That’s how he met Victor Nikiforov, a literature exchange student, studying at the very same university as him, staying there for a year. 

He had been extremely nice about the whole accident, refusing to let Yuuri give him a mochaccino for free - “no, it was my fault you poured it on me, let me pay for another one” - and having an awkward but sweet conversation with Yuuri as he cleaned his table. Victor seemed a bit nervous  - which was fine, Yuuri reasoned, because he too was pretty shy when he first came to Detroit, until he met Phichit and started hanging around with a few other students - but extremely sweet to Yuuri. 

They hit off pretty well and in just a couple of minutes they were talking about their dogs and showing each other pictures when most clients had left the coffee.

He wondered if Victor had any friends around since he mentioned he’d just arrived for his exchange program, so Yuuri thought about introducing him to his small group of friends to hang out.

A sweet smile lit up his face as Victor agreed, blushing and excited, “I’d love to hang out with you sometime!”

And they did. Victor would show up at the café frequently, sometimes ordering something else to use it as an excuse for staying longer and having more time to talk to Yuuri. Eventually, they found out they had similar schedules and agreed to hang out together, grabbing lunch or dinner together once a week. One weekend Yuuri called him over for a movie night, and they all had a great time.

Yuuri wasn’t sure when he fell in love with Victor, or when Victor fell in love with him. There always had been that nudging, underlying tension in everything they did, because  _god_ how could anyone ignore how perfect Victor was? His freckles, his long, soft hair, his sweet accent, the way he got excited about some book and would talk really fast about it, the way his eyes lit up when Yuuri mentioned something he liked. He didn’t know if he’d fallen in love at that one lunch when Victor brushed a fallen leaf away from his hair, when he touched him with such a delicate, reverent hand that made Yuuri melt, eyes big and wide and so blue Yuuri could drown in them. Or at that one movie night when Yuuri leaned on him so they all could fit more comfortably on the sofa, and Yuuri couldn’t get  _enough_  of Victor's scent, couldn’t get over how  _soft and warm_ he was, as if he’d been shaped to fit perfectly in his arms. 

But when they kissed for the first time everything felt right. Everything fit together perfectly and nothing else mattered in this world.

They started dating around spring break. They were so sappily in love, doing everything together, basking in each other’s presence at every given opportunity. It was the happiest year of their lives. 

And eventually Victor had to leave - go back to Russia, finish his studies. Naturally, they decided that wouldn’t stop them from being together - what they had, even if for a short time, had changed their lives to a point where they couldn’t think of a future without each other in it. They bought rings they swore to wear every single day of their lives, rings that would represent their presences while they were away, engraving their names inside to add to the sense of belonging to each other.

Departure was difficult, with its fair share of tears and long hugs that were reluctant to let go. Just one more year - one single year until they met again, free from academic responsibilities, free to think of a future together, to make plans of what they’d be doing.

Even though Yuuri missed Victor’s presence terribly talking through texts and Skyping every other night made it bearable. Victor would text him the smallest things that were happening on his day, sending loads of pictures showing Yuuri around St. Petersburg where he lived, Makkachin, his house and his favorite places to go. Yuuri would do the same, sending him “I miss you” texts at every chance he got, drinking mochaccinos while wistfully thinking about his long-distance boyfriend.

It made it bearable. It made it almost feel like Victor was there with him, present, his scent all around Yuuri, soothing and familiar. Hearing his voice made Yuuri’s day, and sometimes they would exchange silly voice messages because  _damn_  he missed Victor’s smile, his laughter, the way he tilted his head back and laughed in silence when he thought of something  _really funny._

It made long distance bearable. But Yuuri couldn’t wait to be with him again.


	8. Victor Nikiforov: the most graceful man in the world?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're in love, y'all

Since youth, Victor was praised for his elegance, perfection, and fairness. Magazines and sports articles always made sure to portray him as nothing but flawless, the slow-motion displays after his competitions emphasizing how his body moved, graceful and precise, achieving feats impossible to other skaters, and he was quickly titled the most graceful man in the world.

Victor paid it no mind. What the media said about him, at the end of the day, had little impact on how he perceived himself and what he wanted to change. To fall under the title of “most graceful man in the world” would be complying with the idea that he had achieved his peak, or so he thought.

Even as he grew up, people seemed to still relate him to that title a lot. No matter what his programs and exhibitions were - if a bit more aggressive, energetic, melancholic - the reviews to it always included that adjective. And while he understood the flattery, he couldn’t help but be disappointed for not relating to it on a personal level.

He didn’t think of himself as graceful. He was skilled, of course, but grace was something that came effortlessly, and skating was all about making difficult maneuvers look easy and effortless. Victor wasn’t a graceful person, not in his personal sphere, because unlike skating you can’t pretend to be grateful when doing trivial things without making it seem strained. 

There was nothing graceful about the way he hit the car on his first driving lesson, nor on the “oops” he let escape when the instructor eyes him angrily. Or when he smelled something burning from the living room to find out he’d forgotten a sink rag too close to the stove. 

There was nothing graceful about the millions of times he fell on his ass while attempting to land those quads back in his youth. Or in the way he smelled his armpits on his way back home to try and guess for how long he could avoid showering just to finish that book he was hooked on.

But grace began to make sense when he met Yuuri. It wasn’t  _grace_  as in being naturally talented at something. It was in the way how Yuuri blushed slightly whenever he gazed for a long while into Victor’s eyes, listening intently to his instructions; in how he looked when distractedly thinking about something, his eyelids heavy and mouth slightly parted; in how hard Yuuri worked on everything Victor asked him to, getting up and promising to try again harder when failing his quad flip. It was graceful the way Yuuri laughed at Victor’s especially bad jokes, not because they were funny, but because Yuuri knew how comfortable Victor must feel to joke like that around him, and it brought him happiness.

Yuuri Katsuki was  _graceful_. In every sense of the word. And what amazed Victor the most was how Yuuri always found a way to express it differently, better, more captivatingly than the last time. It was when he attempted his quad flip at the Cup of China - flawed, many would argue, but it meant the world to him. It was when Yuuri surprised him with matching rings, even though he was nervous and unsure, Victor lacked words to describe how perfect he was. And it made him disappointed at how Yuuri had always been there, trying his best, and had never had his grace admired the way Victor had his. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes in mock-boredom one night when Victor confessed him that, words whispered soft to his hair, enveloped in Victor’s arms. No. For him, Victor - with all his flaws and shortcomings like him - was the truly graceful between the two. 

But he knew it was a pointless discussion to have. Victor and he would argue and flatter each other tired and none would leave the winner because none of them wanted to. For them, the other would always be the best, the reason for their existence, and it was fine because they complemented each other. That was the true beauty of it.


	9. Message Read: 00:02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idk which AU this would be but I'm weak for Full Eros Yuuri so you have that

_Sent _(17:52)__ : vitya! wanna go clubbing tonight?   
_Received _(18:06)__ : where?   
Sent  _(18:07)_ : [attachment]   
Received  _(18:17)_ : oooh burlesque? i don’t know…  
Sent  _(18:19)_ : come ooooooon it’s going to be fun!! lot’s of cute boys ;) and poles. and nipple tassels. and strip-shows…   
Received  _(18:21)_ : sounds kinky. i’m in   
Sent  _(18:22)_ : it starts at 10:30pm but i have some stuff to do before that. see you there kinky boy?   
Received  _(18:52)_ : yeah! just hmu when you arrive, i’ll be heading there after work! 

The place was crowded, the frenetic beat of the music thrumming through his body as Chris arrived at the party. The red ambient lights set the mood for the night, poles placed throughout the dance-floor inviting those more daring to climb up on them and put on a show. 

Chris was excited, wasting no time to lose himself in the crowd of sweaty bodies that moved to the rhythm of the music. The air was hot and thick, lights flashing in a multitude of colors on the crowd, and it took him a couple of minutes to remember he was supposed to meet with Victor here tonight. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Chris typed a quick message. 

_Sent: bitch are you ready to party? [dancing man emoji] [drink emoji] (23:58)  
Sent: come find me at the bar for shots ;) (23:58)_

He puts his phone back in his pocket, heading to the bar where he shouts his order over the counter to a nice-looking barman who’s bobbing his music to the rhythm of the song. Victor should be there somewhere, and knowing him Chris was sure he’d find him in a matter of minutes as soon as he read the word “shots”. So Chris waited, leaning on the counter as he sipped his glass of iced water -  _gotta keep hydrated for the drinks_ , he told himself - and watched the crowd dance. Some people were shameless, bravely attempting easy maneuvers on the poles, sometimes failing miserably and falling on their asses laughing. He just couldn’t wait to join them and give everyone a show. 

Finding Victor’s delay odd, Chris checked the message a couple of minutes later, worried about his friend’s silence. Victor  _always_ took ages to reply, but it was unusual for him not to come meet Chris since they’d agreed to hang out together.

The message had been read, under Victor’s name it was displayed  _last seen at 00:02._  It was 00:10 and there was no sign of him.

Had Victor changed his mind?

_Sent _(00:11)_ : where is my party boy?_

He wouldn’t press any further, but Chris couldn’t deny feeling a bit worried about Victor. Ordering a shot, he decided to start the party without his friend, joining the sea of sweaty, moving bodies and letting the music flow through him. 

About half an hour later, Chris thought it would be best to call him. It made no sense for Victor to be at the party and not reply him. He tried surveying the corners for his silver hear - maybe he’d found a loverboy for himself, Chris reasoned - but it was nowhere to be found. Maybe he hadn’t come to the party, and if so Chris would feel more relaxed in knowing his friend was fine.

He climbed upstairs to the balcony to make the call, trying to keep as far away from the blasting music as possible. When he was about to give up, Victor picked up.

“Chris,” he answered, and was Victor  _panting_? “Hey. Sorry. Not a good time. Call me later?”

“Jesus, Vitya, what happened? Did you make it to the party?”

Chris couldn’t be sure but he heard loud noises from Victor’s call. He  _seemed_  to be at the party, at least, but the reception was weird and his voice had an echo to it. 

“Y-yeah, I…” An awkward silence followed, then a long, distant sigh. “I’m… I’m fine. K-kinda busy. _”_

 _“_ Are you drunk? Do you need help?” Chris offered, and then what followed was an unmistakable  _moan,_ muffled, and that was definitely not a part of the music that was playing because it sounded an awful lot like Victor’s voice. 

“N-no. Everything’s fine. D-don’t –  _a-ah –_  don’t worry.”

“Oh, I see, you naughty boy,” Chris purred, and if it wasn’t for the loud chattering around him he could almost pick up on some other noises from Victor’s end of the call. “Get that dick! Is he cute? You wearing protection?”

 _Yeah, he’s definitely getting it._ He could hear the distant, familiar sound of a slap followed by Victor’s gasp.

“Mm. Bye, Chris. Later.”

Chris hung up, unable to contain his giggles any longer. He almost folded himself in half laughing at the thought that he’d just called Victor in the middle of some casual, crumpled bathroom sex at a party. The night had barely started and his friend was  _getting_  it. Amazing. 

Feeling a lot more relieved after knowing his friend was  _perfectly ok_ , Chris lost himself in the party, quickly forgetting about the awkward phone call from earlier. He didn’t even expect to see Victor at the party anymore, figuring that he’d most likely take his date home for some more comfortable lovemaking or something. What he didn’t expect was to find a very disheveled-looking Victor in the crowd, hands glued to the agile hips of a stunning, sex-on-legs beauty that smiled over the shoulder at him. His body was covered in glitter, tight black shorts, fishnets, crop top and hair as disheveled as Victor’s and paying more attention - yeah, that was definitely the guy Victor was with, neck marked here and there with what could only be the shape of Victor’s lips. 

Oh, he got  _lucky_. 

It was Victor who saw Chris - well, to be fair, Chris was very evident on that pole - and he crossed the sea of moving bodies with his hands firm on the brunet guy’s hips, who swayed them in perfect syntony with the music. 

“ _Chris_ ,” Victor yelled, smiling from ear to year as his friend climbed down the pole. “ _We are getting married_.”

The other guy smiled at him, looking a bit embarrassed but definitely comfortable enough to press his body against Victor’s. “Nice to meet you, Chris. I’m Yuuri,” he said, offering his hand for a handshake. “Sorry for stealing Victor from you earlier.”

Chris smiled, taking his hand with a soft grip. “My pleasure. I’m glad to know you were having a good time,” he winked at them.

“Oh, it’s just getting started, babe,” Yuuri laughed, tilting his head back to flash a sultry look at Victor. “I haven’t even climbed on the poles yet.” 

Victor fluttered his eyes shut, lips forming some word Chris couldn’t really understand, but then he smiled. Yuuri climbed up the small round stage to stand next to Chris, raising an eyebrow at him as he held the pole with a sure grip. “You mind?”

With an elegant flourish, Chris pointed at the pole. “All yours.”

“Victor,” Yuuri purred, shooting a lewd look at Victor that made him feel like he was intruding on something. “Keep your eyes on me, OK?”

Chris immediately decided that he liked that guy. 


	10. What Once Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some more soft boys and soft fluff!

It was to the sound of Yuuri’s soft snoring, cheek pressed flat on Victor’s chest, that Victor caught himself thinking about their life.

They were a tangly mess of limbs, like usual - refusing to be apart even when asleep - and the simple realization of that fact made Victor feel a knot on his throat.

He was so glad.

So glad for Yuuri having stumbled into his life the way he did - the cutest drunken mess, so much happier with the last placement on the GPF than himself, who had yet another meaningless gold medal in his pocket. Yuuri, the skittish, self-conscious boy who had shoved him away for weeks after he’d moved to Hasetsu, where his heart now belonged, who he’d catch staring lovingly at him every morning like he couldn’t quite believe Victor was real. 

 _Victor_  couldn’t believe this was real. 

What had been a simple turn of events had defined who they were on that night - in love, together,  _sharing_  their lives and love and thoughts every day. 

Even after all this time, Victor still had a hard time believing in his luck. 

He knew Yuuri felt the same - if not more -, having married to the so thought unattainable crush he’d nursed since his teenage years. Yuuri, who had been  _so close_  to giving up, had decided to give Victor a chance, letting him into his life just like Yuuri had barged into his, opening the doors to a new life. And in favor, Victor had brought him up with him, helped him stand on the same level and go further than Yuuri’s wildest dreams had imagined.

It meant nothing to be the greatest in what he did if there was no one to return home to. Yuuri had breathed new air into his life, showing Victor new meanings, new pleasures, new possibilities. 

Victor found it impossible to think of his life without Yuuri in it. They were so much better now. 

“Vitya,” he heard his husband’s sleepy voice calling, followed by a heavy caress of his hand on Victor’s cheek. 

“Yes, babe?” Victor smiled, holding Yuuri’s hand and kissing his knuckles. Yuuri had his eyes closed still, dry drool on the corner of his mouth, and he was still the most gorgeous sight Victor had ever seen in his life.

“Why are you awake?” He asked, giving Victor’s hand a soft squeeze. “Is it time?”

Even if it was time to get up and get ready for the flight, Victor didn’t care. He rolled on his side, wrapping Yuuri in his arms and kissing his neck. 

“I lost my sleep,” he replied, earning a soft groan from his sleepy husband. 

“Not good,” Yuuri hummed, voice muffled against the pillows. “Sleep.”

Victor smiled softly. “Will you help me?” He asked, his heart aching with the overwhelming realization of how much he loved the man in his arms.

Yuuri’s reply was another soft groan as he rolled on his back and switched positions with him, letting Victor rest his cheek on his chest, threading sleepy fingers through Victor’s messy hair. Yuuri was warm, soft and inviting, and his dark eyes watching Victor through heavy lids made him feel safe. 

“I love you,” Yuuri whispered, voice raspy from sleep, his gaze intense with the meaning of his words.

With soft lips, Victor pressed a kiss on Yuuri’s chest. 

“I love you too,  _lyubov moya_.”


	11. One Year, With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little something for the yuri on ice anniversary thingy

Yuuri is looking at his phone, waiting for the right moment. It’s late at night, but just like him, Victor is awake, fumbling around the kitchen because, being the sap that he is, he wants to cook them something  _special_  the next day - which, technically, is already  _today_. 

It’s an important date for them.

They’re tired from practice today and it took them a lot of effort not to fall asleep on the couch as they watched the news, Yuuri comfortably nested between Victor’s thighs while Victor played with his hair. But they had things to do, things to fix for the next day - a free day where they could rest and enjoy each other’s company as much as they wanted. 

Victor, being busy seasoning the meat for their dinner the next night, doesn’t even notice how late it is, Yuuri thinks. On the other hand, Yuuri would miss the opportunity for nothing in this world, having thought of this occasion many times before. Barefoot, he pads silently to the kitchen, where he sees Victor washing his hands under Makkachin’s attentive eyes as he hums a pop Russian song. The scene is heartwarmingly  _domestic_. Yuuri catches himself smiling at it.

“I thought you were getting ready to sleep already,” Victor comments as he places the tray in the refrigerator, drying his hands on a kitchen rag. 

“Just checking if you needed some help,” Yuuri said, and hugging Victor was such a natural reaction he barely even noticed what he was doing until he felt the gentle pressure of Victor’s fingers cradling his head. 

“I think I’m done here,” Victor says, lips brushing on the top of his head, fingers threading through Yuuri’s hair. “Happy one year, my love,” Yuuri can feel his smile as Victor places a gentle kiss on his forehead. 

Yuuri looks up at him, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he looks at his fiancé’s proud, blue eyes, and Yuuri smiles back - has he ever stopped smiling since he arrived in St. Petersburg, he wonders. 

“Hey!” Yuuri chuckles, standing on the tips of his toes to steal a kiss. “I was going to surprise you with that!”

Victor hums, chasing after his lips.

“You already surprise every day since we met. Let me have this one.”

Yuuri flutters his eyes shut, cupping Victor’s face gently as if to make sure he was still there - as if his arms around his waist and chests presses together weren’t enough. No, he can  _never_  have enough of Victor.  

“Thank you for all the happiness and love in the years to come,” Yuuri whispers back, bumping their foreheads together.


	12. Bathtubs aren't for sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have some more of these domestic boys

One thing Yuuri learned after moving in with Victor was that Victor loved soaking in his bath. It wasn’t something Yuuri had particularly paid attention to in Hasetsu - since using the onsen in their spare time was kind of expected - but once they’d started living under the same roof Yuuri got familiar with his habit. No matter how tired Victor was, he would always find a moment to relax in his bathtub, adding candles and salts while listening to chill music. 

Yuuri would frequently join him despite the bathtub being too small to fit both of them comfortably. Naturally, they worked their way around it - it was not like they didn’t enjoy having to be pressed together, bathing together was just an excuse for more cuddling.

It was one of those days where Victor arrived late from a full day of practicing, coaching and negotiating with his sponsors. Yuuri took care of everything - prepared a nice meal, added some candles on the dining table to set a comfortable mood, and planned on watching a movie together wrapped in a cozy blanket. Of course, once they were done with dinner Victor started making noises about running a bath before they started the movie, and Yuuri let him have a soak as he cleaned up the kitchen and prepared them some popcorn.

Victor would always take his time with his bath - enough that he’d step out of the bathroom with wrinkled fingertips - though it usually didn’t take longer than half an hour. So Yuuri chose a spot on their couch, cuddling Makkachin as they watched the news, waiting for Victor to get the movie ready to go. 

But sitting on the couch without Victor cuddling him always felt weird _._  It was difficult to find a comfortable position, the absence of Victor’s familiar shape and the warmth of his arms enveloped around him making it almost impossible to relax. Makkachin, getting tired of Yuuri’s incessant shuffling, decided to sprawl on the floor, sighing tiredly as Yuuri tried stacking pillows to lean on.

He called for Victor after checking his phone, finding it odd that his fiancé would take so long in the bath when he knew they were watching a movie. And as he got no response, Yuuri decided to check on him in the bath. 

Sure enough, Victor had dozed off, his head lolled in an awkward angle that would definitely get his neck sore, cheek pressed on his shoulder with bubbly water around his chest. Yuuri couldn’t help smiling at the scene, wasting no time in picking a fluffy towel from the counter and sinking his hand in the bath water. It was lukewarm, though the kind of lukewarm that was almost cold.

“Vitya,” Yuuri called, brushing his knuckles gently on his fiancé’s cheek. “Wake up, love.”

Victor hummed drowsily, blinking slow and bleary as he stirred in the bathtub. As he realized he’d fallen asleep, some Russian escaped his lips with a breath, and Yuuri smiled fondly, helping him sit and wrapping a towel around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Victor said, entwining his fingers with Yuuri’s as he got out of the bathtub. “Wow, I didn’t know I was so tired.” 

“No need to apologize, babe. You had a long day,” Yuuri smoothed a few wet strands of hair that clung to his forehead, placing a tender kiss on the spot as he helped Victor wrap himself in the towel. “I’ll help you get dressed and then we can go to sleep.”

“Didn’t you want to watch the movie?” He asked, helping Yuuri dry his skin with heavy, sleepy moves. 

Yuuri dismissed with a shrug. “We can watch it another day,” he said, and something akin to worry flashed behind Yuuri’s eyes for a second. Victor decided not to push him, focusing on wrapping a towel around his head to absorb the excess water. 

They go to bed shortly after, and Yuuri found it much more comfortable now that he got to tangle his limbs with Victor’s, inhale his scent, feel his fingers tracing circles on his scalp as they prepare to fall asleep. And even though he was comfortable, Yuuri couldn’t quite relax with the thoughts running through his head, his soft sighs catching Victor’s attention.

“Do you want to say something, love?” He asked, lips pressed on Yuuri’s forehead. 

Yuuri hesitated. He had his thoughts clear in his mind, but once he tried to get them in words it was like they got scrambled somewhere between his brain and his mouth. 

“Is it… Too much, Vitya?” He asked, resting his chin on Victor’s chest to look at him in their dimly lit bedroom. He knew he wasn’t specific enough, but Victor waited patiently. “The coaching. The training. I feel like… I wasn’t fair with you when I asked you to be my coach for another year, especially because you had already decided on your comeback and compete again. I think… I was selfish. Because I knew you’d say yes to coaching me again, but it wasn’t the right thing to ask of you. So, please, is it too much?”

Victor remained silent, his profile illuminated by the lit lamp in the living room looking sober and thoughtful as he ran his fingers through Yuuri’s messy hair as if to buy some time while he let his words sink in. 

“Yuuri,” he said eventually, and the lilt alone in his voice was enough to soothe Yuuri’s nerves, “I feel touched by your concern. I really do. Do you remember that time in Hasetsu when we talked by the ocean?”

Yuuri gave him a faint nod, attentive, wondering where this was going.

“Do you remember what you asked me to be?”

“I asked you to be who you are,” Yuuri replied quietly.

“And do you remember what I said in return?” Yuuri nodded. “That I’d show you my love through our passion for skating. Nobody had asked me to be who I am before, Yuuri. You showed me it was okay to take what I want in consideration over what others expect from me. Everybody expected me to retire then - you were maybe the only one who believed I could do a comeback. And I almost convinced myself that the only option left was for me to retire. But I wasn’t ready to let go yet, not when I felt that old, familiar competitive feeling I was lacking for so long stirring again when I watched you and Yuri doing so well, breaking my records. I  _knew_  wanted to come back to the ice. I wanted to skate again because it now feels so different, so…  _fun_ , like how it’s supposed to feel. And you gave me the reason to believe it was okay to pursue what I wanted despite most people not approving it, despite people thinking I wasn’t capable of doing it. They also thought I wasn’t capable of coaching you,” Victor shrugged, “and we proved them wrong. I guess I wanted to prove them wrong again.”

“But the coaching…” 

“It’s challenging, like skating without inspiration and aiming for the first place was. But it feels…” his eyes moved as if he searching the room for the right word. “ _Right_. It’s hard work, but the reward makes it worth it,” Victor smiled at him, grazing the pad of his thumb on Yuuri’s lower lip. “I didn’t want to think of returning to the ice without you, and I didn’t want to stop being your coach either, so there’s no reason for you to think you’re taking advantage of me, love. I want this. It’s like I get the best of both worlds, coaching you and being your competitor.” 

Yuuri smiled, fluttering his eyes shut and leaning into Victor’s touch on his cheek. He kissed the palm of Victor’s hand gently, his heart swelling in his chest with his fiancé’s reassurance. They still had a lot to work on in terms of their relationship, but Yuuri was glad that opening up with each other was growing much easier.

“WIll you let me know if it’s too much?” Yuuri asked, entwining their fingers together. 

And Victor smiled at him, fondness pouring wordless form his expression, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly. 

“Of course, darling.”


	13. Your Hair Was Long When We First Met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i have feelings about victor being a huge lotr nerd

It’s another regular Sunday morning - one of those where they like to take their time to get out of bed, and once they do they want to make sure they have a strong coffee on the way. Victor is sipping from his mug, quietly admiring his fiancé’s profile illuminated by the morning light, his tousled hair sticking up in a funny way, so distracted by his natural beauty he doesn’t even register that Yuuri is looking right back at him, smiling softly, probably thinking the same things.

“Vitya,” Yuuri says softly. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

Victor wants to say he does -  _“Of course, baby! How could I forget?”_  - but he has a feeling that the first time he remembers is not the same first time Yuuri is talking about, and he really wants to hear the story from Yuuri’s point of view. He takes a long sip, savoring the taste of coffee in his mouth as he scratches Makkachin’s head gently.

“Care to refresh my memory?” 

Yuuri, being the sweetheart he is, smiles and stirs on his seat. It’s adorable - almost like he’s counting on Victor’s negative to tell him the story, and Victor is all ears for him. 

“Well, I’m… actually not sure if it counts since it was more of a one-sided thing,” he pauses, pouting at the broken cookie he withdraws from his mug. “Oh.”

Victor gives him his cookie, getting up to fetch a spoon. “Go on, I’d love to hear that.”

Yuuri fits the rest of the cookie in his mouth (not surprising) and takes a sip from his coffee, greedy, and there’s something so adorably intimate in that scene that Victor catches himself smiling at him. Yuuri blushes, chewing on his cookie as Victor hands him the spoon. 

“I was fifteen,” he starts as Victor takes his seat and scoots closer, eager to listen. “You came to Nagoya for one of those ice shows - Fantasy, I think that was it? - and I’d not shut up about it. I  _really_  wanted to go see you, and it wasn’t even like my parents wouldn’t let me go, but I’d bring it up at every opportunity and I think I almost drove Mari crazy with it,” Yuuri laughs at the memory. Victor rests a hand on his thigh, listening carefully. “I was so  _eager_ for it that I didn’t even want to consider missing that chance.”

“So you went to Nagoya,” Victor guesses with a smile.

“Yeah! I had some money saved from a local competition prize and Mom agreed to go with me. I bought the tickets the first day they started selling, we managed to get a really good seat and from that moment on I could  _barely_  sleep just thinking I’d get to see you up close when skating.” 

Yuuri’s eyes light up as he says that, like he’s still that kid, and Victor’s heart swells. He loves his - how comfortable Yuuri’s grown with him to the point he doesn’t blush about confessing what a huge fanboy he’s always been. If anything, it makes  _Victor_  blush, thinking he’s not worthy of so much love.

“When the Big Day arrives I can barely sit still. I wake up at six and start preparing my bag - we’re not even sleeping over, mind you, but for some reason I want to bring a bag with me - and I’m ready to leave by nine when I start camping by the door… Anyway,” Yuuri waves his hand and laughs. “We go to Nagoya maybe like two hours earlier than necessary and time just seems to  _drag_  until the gates open and we are allowed inside. I know we are notsupposed to throw things on the ice after performances since it’s an exhibition, but the staff asks if we have something to gift the skaters and I’m  _so_  excited to show them my crocheted poodle that I made for you,” at this point, Yuuri blushes a little, touching his cheeks and chuckling. “They promise me it’ll be delivered to your dressing room with the small letter I wrote and we’re invited to take our seats…”

Victor smiles. It’s hard to remember all gifts he’s received throughout his skating career - mostly poodle plushies, granted, but Yakov wouldn’t let him keep  _all_  of them - but he always made sure to keep letters from his fans. He makes a mental note to show Yuuri his letter-box and look for his letters together. 

“Nagoya…” Victor hums, his thumb drawing circles on Yuuri’s thigh. “How old was I then? 19? I don’t remember much about it…”

Yuuri’s eyes light up, taking Victor’s hand in his. “Are you serious? It was one of the  _most gorgeous_  exhibitions I’ve ever seen in my entire life! You skated to [Arwen’s song](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DQ6hJqI5BEW8&t=MWNhNDI2Njg5OTE0Y2E0ZDI4ZTZhYjZmMDI1OGE2OGQzY2QyOTU3Myx1aU1PRnZmbQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AYNBW-VzzIp1wqWaJgHonng&p=http%3A%2F%2Fvityanikiforova.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F166815111803%2Fif-youre-still-doing-the-fic-title-ask-can-i&m=0), and I have no idea how I managed to see through all my tears - but I did, I can still remember the routine if I close my eyes and think of the melody. It was  _magic_ , angelic - you looked so  _ethereal_  in your silver and lilac outfit, gliding on the ice, the skirt fluttering behind you, your hair half-braided and flowing like moonlight on a river…” 

Yuuri’s voice trembled, and Victor noticed the tears welling in his eyes as he took a deep breath. He felt a knot in his throat - he remembered the exhibition now, remembered  _exactly_  how it felt, but he’d never have guessed how deep it had touched spectators. Gently, Victor brought his hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of Yuuri’s hand as his fiancé wiped a tear. 

Victor can’t believe how lucky he is.

“It was so beautiful,” Yuuri sniffs, smiling at him as if he can’t quite believe that years after that, Victor there with him - holding his hand, living  _together_ , and that he’s telling him the story of how he fell in love once again with him, and if anyone had told him this was what the future was holding for him Yuuri wouldn’t have believed them. 

“I’d never have guessed that the love of my life was out there watching it when I was skating to that routine,” Victor smiles, and he’s not sure if it’s a tear rolling down or if it’s Yuuri’s thumb gently brushing on his cheek. 

Yuuri smiles. 

“I bought the show’s DVD but I start crying every time I hear the first notes of that song,” he chuckles, scooting closer to Victor, seeking to feel more of him and remember how  _real_  this is. “Even before that, it was like I was falling in love every time I saw you skate.”

Victor envelops him with an embrace, his fingers threading through Yuuri’s hair as it has become their habit. He can’t bring himself to speak at that moment, but he knows exactly what Yuuri means - the constant  _falling in love_  at the smallest details, waking up to remember how blessed he is to have him as fiancé, a man who gets emotional about an encounter that happened years ago, who treasures those memories as preciously as the ones they’ve made together.

Victor feels like he’s the luckiest man in the world. He wants Yuuri to know  _how much_  he appreciates him. 


	14. Things you said when you thought I was asleep

Despite having lived in Japan for nearly a year, Victor’s understanding of Japanese was still equivalent to a toddler’s. He could read  _basic_  Japanese, could write a few simple answers to easy to recognize questions and, most importantly, knew how to say  _I love you, Yuuri_. 

Yuuri was a patient teacher, just like Victor was in regards to teaching him Russian, but the truth was… none of them had enough time to focus on teaching the other their native language (and studying it enough to be able to fluently speak it) while in season.  So learning the other’s mother tongue was a slow work in progress. 

That didn’t mean they didn’t understand each other when they weren’t speaking English. Oh, no. Victor could tell what Yuuri was talking about to his mother (at least have a basic idea of it) when they spoke on the phone, and he knew for a fact that Yuuri knew enough Russian to go shopping and take the metro home. Their basic, functional vocabulary was pretty decent.

But what they knew was definitely not enough to understand when they were excitedly talking to other natives, rapid-fire and heavy in their native accents. Yuuri would speak Japanese so quickly on his interviews that Victor would barely make sense of words, and more often than not he’d catch Yuuri staring at him and Yakov with a clueless expression as the two discussed technicalities. 

What mattered was that they knew enough to understand each other when speaking softly - domestic and intimate sentences that had grown ingrained to their vocabulary. One morning Yuuri would kiss Victor’s nape and whisper “ _Ya lyublyu tebya, Vitya_ ”, and on the same evening, Yuuri would hear the apartment’s door close followed by a soft “ _Tadaima, Yuuri-chan_ ” _._  

It wasn’t enough, of course. Many times, one or the other would fall into frantic, elated ramblings where they could make sense of a few words (familiar ones) while others got lost in the moment. They’d rarely remember to ask what those meant later, and when they did, more often than not, the other couldn’t remember what they were on about. 

That wasn’t the case that night, but it was one of those cases there was no point in asking because Victor was sure Yuuri wouldn’t remember the other day, and Victor wasn’t sure himself if he’d dreamed it or if it had really happened. 

They’d spent the night drinking at Mila’s graduation party. A sip of champagne, a sip of vodka, and they had gotten to that lightheaded, bright state of inebriation that everything was absurdly funny and they couldn’t feel their faces. Georgi gave them a ride back home, just in time before Victor noticed his legs weren’t working that well and Yuuri had to help him climb the stairs to their building. It had been a fun night. 

Victor wasn’t drunk out of his mind. He was just too intoxicated to remember things properly - which explained why he’d stared at his coat-hanger in awe while Yuuri struggled to kick his shoes off, and why he’d spent nearly thirty minutes lying on the floor talking to Makkachin in slurred Russian while Yuuri struggled to remove all the clothes they’d dumped on their bed before heading to the party. Yuuri was definitely drunk, but Victor had learned that even when Yuuri was drunk he was capable of amazing things.

They flopped on the bed, wearing only their underwear, a hot and tangly mess of limbs that giggled at the silliest things. Yuuri was blurry. Beautiful. Victor wanted to marry him right now - what was it, 4:30? - and take him to the Caribbeans for their honeymoon. He wanted to tell Yuuri how much he loved him but his tongue was too heavy and Yuuri seemed to have fallen asleep - but his fingers kept combing through Victor’s hair for what felt like an eternity after that.

He doesn’t remember having rolled to the side and being spooned by Yuuri just how he doesn’t remember telling Yuuri they should take aspirins to avoid hangovers the next day - but he must have, for when he wakes up he finds the bed spinning (though his head seems just fine) and feels Yuuri’s arms around his waist. He’s not sure why he’s awake, but Yuuri is talking - that must be what woke him up - in soft Japanese, slurred on the crease of his neck, his lips brushing on his skin soft and hot like all of Yuuri draped on top of him. 

He thinks Yuuri must be talking to him, but Victor can’t make sense of his words. It’s not because he’s drunk - he understands  _love_  and  _thank you_  and what he’s not so sure but sounds like  _the meaning of (my) life_. It’s definitely in appreciation, but it’s confusing - is Yuuri sleeptalking? 

Victor holds his breath, tries to listen attentively to what Yuuri is whispering on his skin, but there’s still alcohol in his system and Yuuri’s fingers are drawing shapes on his stomach, which is awfully distracting. He quietly curses himself for not studying Japanese enough, and at some point he must have drifted into sleep again, because the next thing he sees is faint sunlight creeping through the shades, gently illuminating Yuuri’s sleeping figure next to him.

There’s no hangover, but he’s ridiculously thirsty. Victor pads to the kitchen and brings a bottle of water with him back to their bedroom - he doesn’t plan on getting out of bed so soon that day, and Yuuri is still softly snoring and drooling on his forearm when Victor is back. Gently, he slips back into bed, carefully taking Yuuri in his arms and snuggling him against his chest.

He catches himself whispering sweet words of appreciation for his husband in soft, lilted Russian, like his heart is speaking directly to Yuuri regardless of language barrier. Emotions as sincere as what he feels for Yuuri don’t require words - they fall short in every language, they can’t make justice to his feelings - and Victor is only vaguely aware of the words he mutters, his lips brushing on the top of Yuuri’s head. 

 

* * *

 

“Were you talking to me last night after we fell asleep?” Victor asks, hopeful, as Yuuri cooks them lunch -  _brunch_ , in his boxers. 

Yuuri hums, scraping the scrambled eggs on the pan. “I don’t remember,” Yuuri admits with a pout. “I think the last thing I vaguely remember is tucking us into bed and you jumping into my arms. Everything is fuzzy in my mind.”

Victor tries not to visibly deflate as he rests his elbows on the kitchen counter. “Oh…” 

“But you were talking to me this morning, right?” Yuuri glances over his shoulder, a slight pink coloring his cheeks. “I mean, after you went to the kitchen.”

“You were awake?” 

“Well, not really” he shrugs. “I just noticed the bed was empty, and I must have dozed off before you came back and cradled me on your chest,” Victor feels his ears getting warm. “But the next thing I remember is hearing you humming in Russian. if you want me to understand what you’re saying the next time, you should try speaking a little louder,” Yuuri smiles, winking at a blushing Victor. 

He doesn’t even notice he’s mirroring Yuuri’s smile. “Noted.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> You can find these ficlets and others on my tumblr, [vityanikiforova](http://vityanikiforova.tumblr.com/tagged/ficlet)!


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